Now is the winter of our discontent
Well, winter has arrived with a vengeance. This morning, when the missus dropped me off at the train station, it was definitely time to don the jacket. It's been cooling down for a few weeks in Sydney maintaining a reasonably balmy 10-16C (50-60F for all you Yanks who seem destined to be stuck in the dark ages of imperial measurements forever) but overnight it dropped to a chilly 4C by about 6:00, which made the trip to work less pleasant than normal (<sarcasm> because going to work is always such a brilliant experience </sarcasm>). For those of you who regularly go to work in subzero temperatures that may sound perfectly normal, even nice, but Sydney-siders are used to a slightly warmer climate.
When the mercury drops my mind wanders off to fresh powder, back-breaking moguls and long, steep tree-lined runs, which just make me more depressed because since getting married, having kids and buying a house I haven't had the money to go skiing (or at least I can't justify spending it on skiing - things like food, mortgage repayments, clothes, daycare, doctors, etc. tend to take priority for some bizarre reason). <sniff><sob>
My two forays into the Canadian snow-fields have given me a taste of the good-life, in terms of quality snow & quality mountains. Unfortunately, Australian skiing doesn't compare - we just don't have high enough hills. My favourite, out of the places in Alberta and BC that I skied, was Blackcomb, BC. Those were the days...when the only things you worried about were whether you were going to do a black or a double-back run down this time and the prospect of breaking something (such as your neck, or worse yet a ski!) on the way down. I was an above average skier when I could afford it (i.e. when my parents used to pay), shunning anything less than a black run and snickering (inwardly) at those who snow-ploughed over to the start of a designated trail (yes, I was a teenager and a bit full of myself but I was a pretty good skier). I tended to stick to the Horstman & Blackcomb glaciers and the Jersey Cream Bowl & the West Bowl on Whistler Mountain. I think my favourite at the time was the Saudan Couloir, although they've since changed the name, I think, to the Couloir Extreme (bit gay if you ask me).
Ah...to reminisce about coming back to a lodge worn out & sore after skiing hard all day. The stifling heat & humidity of the drying room compared to the crisp, pure mountain air outside. Goggles so fogged up in the drying room you can barely see where your boots are. Snow/ice-encrusted beanies. Boot warmers & thick socks. Settling down near a log fire watching Warren Miller movies. Playing pool & cards till late at night and fantasizing about Mike Wiegele heli-skiing tours. Going to bed at a ridiculous hour and getting up with the sparrows so you can do it all over again.
It almost makes me feel young again.
When the mercury drops my mind wanders off to fresh powder, back-breaking moguls and long, steep tree-lined runs, which just make me more depressed because since getting married, having kids and buying a house I haven't had the money to go skiing (or at least I can't justify spending it on skiing - things like food, mortgage repayments, clothes, daycare, doctors, etc. tend to take priority for some bizarre reason). <sniff><sob>
My two forays into the Canadian snow-fields have given me a taste of the good-life, in terms of quality snow & quality mountains. Unfortunately, Australian skiing doesn't compare - we just don't have high enough hills. My favourite, out of the places in Alberta and BC that I skied, was Blackcomb, BC. Those were the days...when the only things you worried about were whether you were going to do a black or a double-back run down this time and the prospect of breaking something (such as your neck, or worse yet a ski!) on the way down. I was an above average skier when I could afford it (i.e. when my parents used to pay), shunning anything less than a black run and snickering (inwardly) at those who snow-ploughed over to the start of a designated trail (yes, I was a teenager and a bit full of myself but I was a pretty good skier). I tended to stick to the Horstman & Blackcomb glaciers and the Jersey Cream Bowl & the West Bowl on Whistler Mountain. I think my favourite at the time was the Saudan Couloir, although they've since changed the name, I think, to the Couloir Extreme (bit gay if you ask me).
Ah...to reminisce about coming back to a lodge worn out & sore after skiing hard all day. The stifling heat & humidity of the drying room compared to the crisp, pure mountain air outside. Goggles so fogged up in the drying room you can barely see where your boots are. Snow/ice-encrusted beanies. Boot warmers & thick socks. Settling down near a log fire watching Warren Miller movies. Playing pool & cards till late at night and fantasizing about Mike Wiegele heli-skiing tours. Going to bed at a ridiculous hour and getting up with the sparrows so you can do it all over again.
It almost makes me feel young again.
posted by Mike Hodgson | 16:58
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